


eight ball, all you

by jupiterse



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Angst with a Happy Ending, Exes to Lovers, M/M, New Beginnings, Sad Mark Lee (NCT)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiterse/pseuds/jupiterse
Summary: Digging his heels into the ground, Mark ponders, “Do you think he knew?”“You’re practically confirmed for the role at this point, even if the news hasn't been published yet,” Renjun answers eventually. His thumbs smooth over Mark’s knuckles, an attempt at cajoling any storm he is bound to provoke if he treads forth without prudence. ”Your co-star is the only one who is undecided.”Left with no choice, Mark feigns submission, content with the mercy Renjun had decided to grant. “So he knows,” Mark repeats.(Or: Mark and Jeno are A-list actors who had dated three years ago. Renjun is the only one who knows. They haven't spoken in three years, and now Mark is expected to act as Jeno's love interest in an upcoming movie.)
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun & Mark Lee, Lee Jeno/Mark Lee
Comments: 4
Kudos: 81
Collections: Love Dream 2020





	eight ball, all you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smartlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartlove/gifts).



> First up: thank you to the mods for organizing this round, and for being so patient ;; It has been a long time since I have last posted, or finished anything for that matter. I struggled a lot writing this... and I'd like to say that I tried my best. With that being said, thank you to B too, for holding my hand, for holding me accountable and telling me I can do it even when I insist that I can't. This fic wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. 
> 
> Lastly, to my recipient, I know that there isn't much drama in this. This is partly due to my fault as I can never see them as exes who hold grudges against each other no matter what happened. In any case, I hope you like this! ♡

Against all odds, Mark finds himself an unwilling victim of nostalgia.

“You’re weird,” Renjun says. He takes in Mark’s curled up form, pathetic and incompetent in his own craft. Judgement lands in drips upon Mark, raining on him along with a crippling thought that has occurred to him at least a thousand times by now. _I can’t do this._

A part of Mark wishes that the image of Jeno is merely a projection of his mind, an extension of his deepest desire and his biggest regret, but he knows that he will never mistake the wisp of his cologne or the crinkle of his eyes for anyone else, no matter if they no longer regard him with the same affection they used to hold. He’s cruel to himself like this.

In the end, Mark bears it all, is capable of withstanding it only because it’s Renjun who is sitting in front of him, cross-legged and placid in his approach. “You have a ten minute break, and the first thing you do is hide under a table.”

The accusation confirms Mark’s suspicions — Renjun knows why Mark is here instead of mingling around with the rest of the crew, or finding himself a seat alongside the other actors to rest. More importantly, Renjun knows _what_ drove Mark here, because there is only one thing — one _person_ — that is capable of reducing him into nothing more than a godforsaken mess.

Lifting his head, Mark chances a glare at Renjun. It doesn’t matter if his intentions are obvious. Being called out on them exposes Mark in a way that is akin to pushing him into the spotlight against his will and forcing him to put on a show for an audience who wouldn’t clap. He is displeased, and that is what leads him to point out: “You’re here with me. Doesn’t make me that weird.”

“Maybe,” Renjun replies, the lilt of his voice displaying a degree of cheerfulness Mark isn’t capable of mustering. The light from above casts a glow upon his face, but Mark is quickly dissuaded from studying Renjun’s face any longer when a pair of hands rest on his, demanding his attention. 

Renjun’s fingers peel his own away from his palms, and the webs of their fingers meet when Renjun laces them together, soothing and agitating at the same time. If it weren’t for the current circumstances, Renjun wouldn’t need to be consoling him like this. Ducking his head lower, Renjun inches his face closer until he too has joined Mark who has found a haven in the shadows offered by the space beneath the table. 

Silence settles over them. Mark chews at his bottom lip and contemplates taking the bait.

“Did you know?”

“I didn’t,” Renjun answers, short and immediate. Perhaps he had expected Mark to arrive at this line of thought, predicted that Mark would push the blame onto him when he comprehends that his emotional stability lies on the line, along with his professionalism and his career. All because of the boy who walked out and took a piece of Mark’s youth with him three years ago. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I did.”

Mark shakes his head. “You’re lying,” he spits. His retort comes out faster than intended, surer even if there is an underlying question beneath it. He doesn’t doubt Renjun’s answer. What fuels the monster that is all of Mark’s anxiety, however, is his admission, words that Mark didn’t ask for, words that he offered regardless. It doesn’t contradict Mark’s perception of Renjun’s character, but the current state of events have clouded his senses beyond reason. 

“I am,” Renjun confirms without remorse. Pity has invaded his semblance, even though his otherwise neutral state hints that convincing Mark against any rash decision is his priority. “This project is important, Mark. Kim Doyoung is a big director... There’s no guarantee that we’ll ever get a chance like that again.”

Renjun is right. There are some risks that should never be taken. Even though Mark is an overgrown child who loves toying fire, even though Mark is an A-list actor. He nods, cognizant that this is one of them. “I know, I know.” 

After all, Mark cannot fault Renjun for doing his job. There is no use in biting their fingernails as they cry out for the ability to undo all the decisions they had made that led them up to this point. For Renjun, it starts with renouncing the script that was sent into his email inbox, a simple action that doesn’t require much thought. For Mark, it begins with never meeting Jeno in the first place. 

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. I haven’t seen him in so long, you know? And now I suddenly have to be his love interest... This isn’t fair,” Mark huffs. The indignance laced with his last statement elicits a laugh out of Renjun, who observes him with nothing but amusement now. 

“Nothing in this world is,” Renjun states, even though the corner of his lips are tugged up into a smile and he’s disputing reality with his own optimism.

Digging his heels into the ground, Mark ponders, “Do you think he knew?”

Doubt overtakes Renjun’s features, and Mark stifles the urge to let out a bitter laugh. Renjun thinks his words are capable of doing harm if he doesn’t choose them right, but he doesn’t know that Mark is the expert of self-destruction. Ultimately, he’s had three years of experience — three years of trying to recreate Jeno’s warmth with his imagination when his face graces his bedsheets at night, three years of clasping his hands around air when he reaches out and discovers the pain of reopening his own wounds.

If anything, Renjun’s apprehension betrays everything he has yet to say. 

“You’re practically confirmed for the role at this point, even if the news hasn't been published yet,” Renjun answers eventually. His thumbs smooth over Mark’s knuckles, an attempt at cajoling any storm he is bound to provoke if he treads forth without precaution. ”Your co-star is the only one who is undecided.”

Left with no choice, Mark feigns submission, content with the mercy Renjun had decided to grant. “So he knows,” Mark breathes out. He closes his eyes and lets Renjun draw all of his fight away from him. Renjun seemingly understands him, and gives his hands a squeeze. Perhaps it’s because he has only slept for a handful of hours the day before, or perhaps age is finally catching up to him; all that escapes him is a weak sigh. 

Shaking his head, Renjun persists, “I can’t speak for him.”

“I’m your friend before he is.” Mark’s eyes snap open, defensiveness bleeding back into his veins again. If there is a secret Renjun is hiding from him, Mark wants — _needs_ — to know. “You don’t need to help him.”

“I’m not helping anyone.”

Renjun’s lips have always been sealed, sometimes to the degree of it being a fault. It normally works when he’s working in an industry where a wrong whip of the head can give rise to rumours of hatred which will later be spun into tales of enmity. 

Unlike Renjun, Mark is incapable of retaining secrets.

He respects Renjun for being tough in aspects where he is unable, but when he stands at the precipice and feels a tug towards the unknown, Renjun’s ethics only serve to provoke him and push him closer to the edge.

Renjun’s gaze flits over his face, examining his features. Mark feels the need to look away, even as he’s being tugged in opposite directions, torn between wanting to know and wanting to acquiesce. To Renjun, he is transparent, a sheet of paper which print is written in black and white. Mark trusts Renjun like that, gives him the power to delve deeper, hands him the reins to do whatever he wishes because he knows that Renjun will only have his best interests at heart.

If Renjun perceives anything more than helplessness, he doesn’t harp on it. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you think you can get out of there by yourself?”

And Mark hands himself over, every single time. 

  
  
  


Mark doesn’t come without his own flaws, no matter if he perceives it as such or not.

Renjun pushes open the door to the conference room where the script reading is meant to take place, and Mark has only one second to register the emptiness of the room before Renjun spins around to frown at him, a product of his hatred for being woken up too early and Mark’s ability to get too persuasive when he wants to be. 

“This is all your fault,” Renjun grumbles. Mark doesn’t disagree. He remains silent and searches for the tag that has his name on it, aware that any remark he makes will only set Renjun off even more. “Why are you so uptight about it? Today’s just another day of script reading; it’s nothing you haven’t done before.”

He doesn’t take long to locate his seat, but the name beside him almost sends him into another frenzy. 

Brushing past Renjun, Mark shrugs and counters with, “Kim Doyoung is a big director.” He doesn’t miss the dirty look Renjun throws at him. The grin that overtakes his features stretches too wide, but Renjun’s defeat is sweeter than his pain. Reaching his seat, Mark pulls the chair out and plops down into it with his legs spread wide. Renjun’s eye twitches. “We should be making good impressions over here.”

“And hiding under a table was your idea of one?” Renjun jests, a weak retaliation for the torture Mark put him through by setting too many alarms too early into the day. It is benign, for Mark has heard worse behind closed doors when only they could judge each other’s vindictiveness, but it wounds Mark all the same. 

Renjun’s words were carefully picked from his knowledge of Mark’s biggest faults, a side effect of the sharp eye he has developed over years of being beside Mark, protecting Mark from the threats that manifest in the form of fake laughter and personalities. But Mark can’t hold it against him, and so he opts for a change of strategies and whines, “That’s not very nice of you.” 

“If you really wanted me to be nice to you, let me sleep in next time,” Renjun croons into Mark’s ear, body bent over the backrest to make sure that his warning is understood and received. “I’ll go and find out today’s schedule from the other managers. Be good.” 

All Renjun offers is a squeeze on the shoulder before Mark is alone, although his peace doesn’t last for long.

Mark watches Renjun’s back as he makes his way towards the door of the room, coat swaying in tandem with every step he makes, but the door opens before Renjun can reach for the handle. 

They lock gazes on Renjun’s way out. 

It’s intense and Renjun’s eyes narrow, as if in warning, but Mark doesn’t get a chance to fully register Renjun’s intentions because a familiar figure replaces him. Turning his head around, Mark resolutely keeps his gaze forwards as Jeno’s cologne reaches him before he does. The scent makes his guts churn in ways that must be unhealthy, but Mark focuses on re-reading the title of the movie over and over again lest he gets the urge to puke out of pure sentimentality.

Shortly after Jeno’s arrival, some of the other actors and actresses reach the conference room too. The room gradually begins to fill up with more life than it previously contained, when it was just Mark and Jeno and the intangible twist of fate that sat between them, pulling them together and pulling them apart at the same time.

Someone else takes a seat behind him, and he turns to give him a nod in greeting, easy and polite. Beside him, Jeno’s leg bounces, a sign that he is beginning to get bored. Mark treads lightly along the shoreline, lets the water wet his toes with every wave, tests his limits and decides that he doesn’t know any better. 

“Good morning,” he mumbles, thumbs fiddling with each other in his lap.

Jeno’s reaction is instant; his leg stops, as if he’s surprised, and his head turns to regard Mark. His expression doesn’t shift, and that unsettles Mark, whose eyes dart away to admire the cover page of the script sitting in front of Jeno. 

Jeno never used to be so far away from him. He understands that between then and now, things must have changed. If Mark had learned to keep himself from chewing at his nails in times of distress, surely Jeno can learn to put up a better, stronger mask in the face of unexpected events too. Especially if it concerns his foolish ex whose will to ignore him waxes and wanes as if it were the moon.

Jeno eventually breaks out into a smile, right before the silence stretches out into something uncomfortable. “Good morning.”

Mark doesn’t have to act like this, but somehow he can’t stop himself. 

“ _I look forward to working with you_.”

Script reading is a simple affair. They go through their lines, repeat a few that require more work, and Mark’s pen doesn’t stop moving as he notes down reminders for himself — intonations, feelings, stage directions. He even manages to gather all his might to face Jeno a few times, no matter if his eyes can only withstand a few seconds of Jeno returning his gaze with the same intensity before he has to look elsewhere. 

Three hours pass before Kim Doyoung calls for a break, and a chorus of relieved sighs echo across the room. His smile is apologetic, but no one pays it mind as they scurry out for a fresh breath of air. Deciding against following the crowd, Mark adjusts himself in his seat and slumps forwards onto the table, resting his forehead against his arms.

With nothing to distract him anymore, Mark’s attention lands on Jeno’s shoes, observing the wear and tear of it, the way Jeno’s feet seem restless from hours of being restricted as well. He doesn’t get up, however, and Mark suppresses the urge to ask for his reason.

"Stop staring at me,” Jeno suddenly protests.

Mark freezes.

“I wasn’t staring at you,” he says, defensive. He averts his gaze, wits tripping over itself as he struggles to come up with an answer that doesn’t reek of guilt and embarrassment. "And you'd have to be staring at me to know that." 

"It's just the two of us now," Jeno says. He thinks reassuring Mark that no one will be around to hear them quarrel is the answer to coaxing Mark out of his shell. And maybe it is, but Mark needs more than that, because facing Jeno is akin to facing his demons. "Do you hate me so much? That you don't even wish to be in the same room as me?"

Mark scoffs, unable to bite back his disbelief. "Believe it or not, I actually don't hate you." Then, the incredulity of Jeno’s question fades, and all that’s left behind is his inability to lie. "It's just not easy,” he breathes out. The first hurdle has been crossed, yet the weight sitting on Mark’s shoulders has barely lightened.

"To do what?"

There are a million answers and none of them would be wrong, but Mark proceeds with the simplest one: "To look at you."

Crossing one foot over the other, Mark watches Jeno swing his leg back and forth a few times, pondering the gravity of Mark’s confession, holding Mark’s heart in his hands even if he doesn’t know it.

"We shouldn't be having this conversation here,” he finally says, sounding defeated. 

Mark begs to differ. Jeno’s answer is a contradiction to his earlier motives, a sign that he has either lost track of them, or has given up on them. Mark recognizes that Jeno has thrown the ball into his court, and reciprocates accordingly. "We've done worse than this.”

"You and I both know better by now.” Jeno plants both of his feet firmly on the ground and pulls himself closer to the table, until all that remains in Mark’s line of vision is the wheels of his chair. Jeno’s lack of response to Mark’s provocation isn’t an indication that he possesses endless patience. Between the two of them, Jeno’s new mellow self signifies that Mark might be the only one who hasn’t grown up, who still thinks that fighting fire with fire brings about sparks and not disaster. 

“Don't leave after this. Wait for me, alright?" Jeno whispers. Mark doesn’t need to acknowledge his request — the sound of the door opening forces him to right himself to welcome the rest of the world again. 

If Mark’s silence is not satisfactory for Jeno, he doesn’t say anything else. 

They have only arrived for an hour, but Renjun decides to let Mark go.

“Keep yourself together," Renjun whispers, his hand warm where it rests against Mark's cheek. As with every other warning he delivers, his gaze remains neutral as it lands on Mark's face. However, caution drips from everything else he doesn't say, and it cuts through Mark's conscience even if he is one second away from making a scene out of pure unawareness. Mark sighs. If he could help it, he doesn't ever want Renjun to leave his sight. "Don't start any trouble while I'm gone."

Mark refuses to perceive the underlying meaning behind Renjun's sentence and simply tilts his head, forcing Renjun's hand to bear the weight of his head. Renjun's palm is smooth and warm and he doesn't resist the urge to nudge his head against it, unafraid that Renjun might laugh at how obviously touch-starved he is. 

"But I need you," he mumbles, the last vestiges of his pride keeping him from getting down on his knees just yet.

"You need to stop drinking," Renjun chides instead.

Mark lifts a hand up to wag his finger at Renjun, who doesn't even spare it a single glance. Using the last of his willpower, he argues, "''M a lightweight. Doesn't matter how much I drink."

Renjun sees through Mark's intentions despite his best efforts at them concealed. Even when Mark first met Renjun, he was already strong-willed and refused to take orders from just about anyone, always insisting that he knew better. And that usually was the truth; the clarity with which Renjun deploys to pick apart people and situations is something Mark has always admired — until Renjun uses it on him. Now, the immunity that Renjun has acquired from six years of dealing with Mark's tendency to persist acts against him and in return, paints him as nothing more than a petulant child who is stomping his feet at the prospect of not getting what he wants in Renjun's eyes.

"Listen to me, alright?" Renjun says, brushing a thumb over the highest point of Mark's cheek. 

In the end, it isn't in Mark's nature to rebel, manager or not, and so he jokes, "I'll be a good boy."

Renjun must make out obedience amidst the poor attempts Mark makes at blinking his eyes open, because he leaves Mark after patting his cheek twice. Even though Mark wants to bemoan the loss of Renjun's presence, he understands what Renjun is trying to do for him. 

The act of leaving Mark to his own defences holds weight for Mark both in and out of his job. On one hand, having a manager breathe down his neck during a celebratory dinner is unrealistic and inappropriate — it reeks of incompetence on Mark's end at controlling his own actions, and it reflects poor character to anyone who is looking. On the other, Renjun knows the real reason behind Mark's reticence at their detachment, and likewise, Mark knows that he cannot depend on Renjun to escape forever.

He and Jeno are colleagues now, working on the same project even if they weren't colleagues by name before.

There are two things that keep Mark's sanity intact on set: Renjun's companionship, with which he fulfils out of duty and friendship, and luck. Most of the scenes that have been filmed thus far are between the minor characters. It means that even though both Mark and Jeno are on set, ready to get to work as soon as the director calls for them, Mark isn't obligated to look in Jeno's way for more than a passing glance. There will come a day when neither of those are able to protect Mark anymore, and throwing Mark into a sea of sharks is Renjun's way of teaching him the lesson, even if it might be too late.

The restaurant was booked weeks ago, as if the team had already anticipated a cause for celebration. It’s small, despite the number of people who have turned up for the occasion. Such practice isn't uncommon, given the nature of their jobs and the industry. 

Tonight, anything Mark does will be kept within these four walls, no matter if the act is heroic or plain foolish. Still, eighty pairs of eyes are eighty pairs too many, and Mark decides, without standing up, that he isn't going to move an inch from where he has been left.

Without Renjun occupying his space and by extension his thoughts, Mark is free to observe the commotion that has developed over the past two hours. His eyes travel from one end of the restaurant to another, cataloguing bits of information — _Jiwoo knows Hyunjin?_ — he knows he will not remember or have use for when he rises from bed the next day. Mark is fidgety, mostly a product of his own lack of forethought from ingesting copious amounts of alcohol at once — but also because Renjun is talking to Jeno.

Perhaps seeking for comfort by looking for Renjun was what his subconscious intended to do, except all thoughts of consolation were thrown out of the window the moment his eyes landed on an image he never thought he'd witness.

Jeno being Mark's ex does not dictate a negative relationship between him and Renjun because Renjun isn't the type of person to let trivial things like this affect the way he regards someone. After all, what happened between Mark and Jeno should stay between Mark and Jeno, even if Mark thinks Renjun should pick a side — _his_ side — and stick with it. 

Back when Mark and Jeno were dating, any interaction between Jeno and Renjun was facilitated by Mark, born out of a need to see the people he loved most make peace with each other. Now that they no longer have a reason to come together, this turn of events serves as an antonym to everything Mark knows. 

Mark's habit of staring has never quite left him, and he neglects the possibility of being discovered with each second he continues to observe Jeno and Renjun, amazement and confusion creeping into his nerves and all over his skin, forcing him awake when he was so sure he'd pass out seconds before. 

Unfortunately, Jeno senses the presence of an audience before Mark can get himself together and look away.

Mark watches as Jeno excuses himself from the conversation. From this distance, he can't make out the exact reason Jeno gives, but his intentions are clear as he turns and begins to walk in Mark's direction without a care as to how Renjun is going to receive or react to his decision. 

As Jeno's figure nears, Mark makes eye contact with Renjun, who remains unmovable from where Jeno left him. Renjun’s brows are furrowed, face arranged into an expression that Mark can’t make out. It only serves to compound his bewilderment. 

He doesn’t get to dwell on it though, because Jeno is standing right before him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Can I sit here?"

Mark lifts his head at the very voice that he had been subconsciously waiting for, gaze flitting upwards to meet Jeno's own. His heart wavers for a second and his arm flails around in a poor attempt to gesture towards the chair next to him. "It's a free world."

"That's not true," Jeno says as he settles down next to Mark. His hand extends and Mark eyes the flute of champagne he’s holding. "Want some?"

“No thanks,” Mark rejects, the muscles in his face straining from the forceful drag of his smile. Somehow, being around Jeno makes his drunken haze better and worse at the same time. He rubs a hand down his face, stopping to pinch at his nose bridge, praying for some semblance of clarity to reach him. “God, Renjun is so going to kill me tomorrow. 

Jeno laughs, pleasant and light-hearted. Mark doesn’t know how his demise is a point of amusement for Jeno, but he doesn’t complain, not if it is able to get Jeno to loosen up around him so he can begin righting his wrongs.

Jeno takes another sip of his champagne and concludes, “I think you’ll be just fine. He’s a lot less hard on you than you think he is.”

“And what would you know?” Mark asks, memories of what happened a few minutes earlier coming back to him again. In the end, Jeno isn’t the one he should be confronting, so he diverts, “What brings you here, actually?”

Jeno dedicates him a look. Mark raises his eyebrows and receives more judgement in return. “I told you to wait for me.”

“I had matters to attend to,” Mark says, a little too haste in his reply. He hadn’t forgotten about how he failed to fulfil his end of the agreement, yet it is unexpected that Jeno is brave enough to confront him about it. Aware of how he sounds, he tacks on, “You can ask Renjun. I’m not lying to you. I won’t lie to you.”

Unlike Mark, Jeno doesn’t rush to answer. The only hint of acknowledgement that Mark gets is the sharp intake of breath, cold February air rushing into Jeno’s lungs. Mark longs for it to be him instead, misses the years when it was him that Jeno lived and breathed.

Mark’s soul dangles at the end of a thread as he waits. His composure is withheld by a measly string tied around his heart; it does little to stop him from barging into Jeno’s personal space, demanding answers Jeno cannot give.

At last, he laments, “You can’t just say things like that, Mark.”

Torn between relief and disappointment, Mark lets his spine curve as he slumps further into his seat. He scrapes his nails lightly along his palms and pushes back the urge to reach out for Jeno’s hand to replace the ghost of it that seems so insistent on returning into his life.

“Why not?” Jeno doesn’t move an inch, frozen from Mark’s truth, from his challenge. His fingers close in on themselves when Mark leans in. Adrenaline infiltrates his self and Mark briefly ponders if he will ever feel so alive again. 

He inhales fear and exhales anticipation. The possibility that Jeno might be as affected about seeing him again sits on his shoulders, whispers all things traitorous. It tells him to push.

Mark doesn’t hold himself back. 

“Does it scare you?”

“We’re no longer together,” Jeno declares. The phrase is a reminder, a talisman, a shield. Regardless of his intention, they all serve just one purpose — a shelter for him to cower in. He shrugs, yet his arms cross his chest, revealing his true feelings on his behalf. “I don’t even know if we’re good.”

It’s understandable why Jeno would think such. He is on the receiving end of Mark’s fickle mind, a victim of the inconsistent front Mark puts up, no matter if Mark did not mean to do so. Mark should speak up and fix his misconception, because they are meant to be working together for months to come. 

And so he begins by resting his head on Jeno’s shoulder, tentative, waiting for Jeno to push him away. “Does it mean I can’t do this anymore?”

Jeno’s sigh is amplified when Mark is this close, but he doesn’t shift, not even when Mark gives up holding his own weight and troubles Jeno’s shoulder with it instead. “I’m not stopping you, am I?”

At Jeno’s compliance, Mark further accommodates himself into his side and draws a smile, content with the results of his attempt. A minute victory for his timid self. 

Silence descends upon them for a while, with Mark fighting against the need to fall asleep and possibly decapitate Jeno’s arm, and Jeno’s head turning at the slightest noise that occurs. Mark sleepily rubs his cheek against the rough fabric of Jeno’s buttoned shirt, setting his senses ablaze when he realizes this is Jeno’s scent he is breathing in.

Taking a shot in the dark, Mark garners all his courage to utter, “You looked good in your latest project.”

It was a movie — a period film that required Jeno to be dressed up in the most complicated outfits, accompanied with hair that would not compliment anyone else but him. Renjun was playing around with the remote when he found Jeno’s movie airing. Mark still remembers the sinister gleam of Renjun’s eyes when he tugged Mark down to sit beside him. 

Even though Mark neglected to mention a crucial part of his story, Jeno catches on all the same. In fact, his vision narrows on the potential that Mark’s decision was not voluntary, as if it discounts the credibility of his praises. “Did you watch it because Renjun made you watch it?”

Mark laughs at that, amusement trickling out of him in short puffs of air. It is confirmation that Jeno has yet to perceive any of Mark’s actions the way Mark wants him to. Most importantly, it encourages Mark, reinforces his desire to extend their intangible limits even further. “I wanted to watch it myself. I wanted to know what you were doing — how you were doing.”

“You could have just asked me,” Jeno ventures, sounding unconvinced of his own words.

Jeno’s suggestion paints an inaccurate picture of their current relationship, which is estranged and awkward. In reality, Mark is a person who allows pride more power than it deserves. Jeno must be aware that he is not exempt from being a slave to his ego too; the fact that he did not reach out either is proof of that. 

However, Mark is not here to dispute Jeno’s half-truth. And so he nods and lies, “I could have.”

“You’re so drunk,” Jeno comments, marvelled. He thinks Mark is unable to read between the lines, unintentionally giving Mark a way out. Mark doesn’t refute his observation.

Jeno runs a hand through Mark’s hair, messing up the failure of a hairstyle he had tried to conjure amidst his anxiety for this night. Mark’s body responds with a shiver when the pads of Jeno’s fingers guide him to lift his chin. “Save my number and text me when you get home. I’ll be worried about you otherwise.”

Mark chews on his bottom lip, his gut churning where it sits in his core. “Did you change your number?”

“No.”

“Then it’s fine.” Jeno remains perplexed, unaware that Mark is about to erase all of his doubts with a whisper. He remains silent, urging Mark to continue explaining himself. With a trembling voice, Mark unveils the last piece of his heart. “I… I never deleted your number.”

Jeno doesn’t reply, although it is clear that Mark’s honesty has stunned him into silence. Mark ruminates over the contradictions of an actor who cannot act and finds that it isn’t all that hard to imagine.

  
  


Mark was in the midst of getting his makeup done when he received a text from Donghyuck three months into filming. It reads: _you didn’t tell me that you’re shooting with lee jeno!!!!!!!_

A flurry of other texts flood in after that. Some of them are demands to meet _the_ Mark Lee. Others are well-punctuated threats about Mark withholding such an important piece of information from him. Mark ignores the ill-spirited messages and responds to his request to grab a meal, only because he hasn’t had time to see Donghyuck in months and the guilt was starting to chew away at his conscience.

“You’re filming with Lee Jeno,” Donghyuck repeats, wonder insufflated into his voice. Mark’s confusion grows by the second, but Donghyuck hasn’t blessed him with the gratification of knowing the reason behind his amazement just yet.

Yet it is all Donghyuck has said ever since they’ve sat down.

Mark sighs and tries not to act like his soul is dampened from the thought of Donghyuck using him as a buffer for insider news. “I am filming with Lee Jeno,” he echoes while his finger traces idle circles into their table.

When Mark doesn’t contribute anything more than his acknowledgement, Donghyuck looks up from his menu and squints his eyes at Mark instead. It takes him a second to arrive at his conclusion, which, Mark learns, is miles away from his own suspicion.

“You also have a crush on him,” Donghyuck decides, unapologetic about his sudden declaration. 

Mark balks. “What? Who told you that?”

“You don’t seem to want to talk about him, which means that you’re hiding something from me,” Donghyuck surmises, confident in his theory despite Mark’s clear disdain for it. Raising his hand to signal for a waitress, Donghyuck adds, “And, you didn’t refute it.”

The waitress arrives to take their orders, providing a timely distraction for Mark, who doesn’t know how to weasel his way out from under Donghyuck’s pinky. 

Donghyuck decides on his choice of pasta first, and when they are done with relaying their orders, he makes sure to flash a smile at the waitress out of gratitude. Pink begins to bloom on her cheeks, and she nods her head in acknowledgement before she excuses herself.

“I don’t have a crush on him,” Mark immediately says, after the waitress has returned their privacy back to them. 

Overlooking Mark’s words, Donghyuck props his chin up with his hand and peers at Mark with a knowing look. “Is he nice? I heard he’s like an angel.”

It shouldn’t be shocking to discover that people talk about Jeno, not given his current status as a fellow A-list actor who bumps into staff of various backgrounds with each project he works on. In fact, it should be expected that Donghyuck, a makeup artist, is on the receiving end of such hearsay. 

Still, Mark is astonished. 

He briefly wonders if directing attention away from himself is the better card to play, but he quickly learns that Donghyuck’s life is more boring than he thought. Even after racking his brain for something to poke fun at, he ends up at the same spot where he started with no ammunition to protect himself 

Donghyuck isn’t the most secretive person around, both about himself, and others. As someone who isn’t deterred by the vulnerability of confessing things to his friends, attraction to someone belongs low on his list of things to keep mum about. 

Maybe he expects the same of Mark, who has yet to establish that Jeno belongs in a territory of thoughts that shouldn’t be brought up ever. 

Disgruntled at his failed venture, Mark grumbles, “I don’t know what you want me to say. Why are you so interested in him anyway?”

“He’s hot,” Donghyuck says, matter-of-factly. “Plus I won’t tell anyone. Commoners like me won’t ever have the chance to work with someone like him anyway.”

“You’re working with Jung Jaehyun. That hardly makes you a commoner,” Mark scowls. Almost instantly, Donghyuck’s face morphs into one of delight. Mark should have known better — Donghyuck is rarely this humble about anything. Especially not if it concerns his work. “I know nothing that you can’t find on the internet.”

“Come on. Don’t tell me he doesn’t talk to you at all?” Mark shakes his head. Honesty would have been Mark’s preferred route, but Donghyuck has already decoded half of Mark’s issues even without any information. Exposing what he thinks about Jeno only adds danger to this concoction that’s brewing. 

To his dismay, Donghyuck’s distrust gets louder. “His residential area? His favourite colour? The name of his cat?”

“Donghyuck.”

“You’re definitely hiding something.” Donghyuck slams his palm down on the table and snickers at the jump it elicits from Mark. “I _have_ to meet him now. I need to know who’s got Markie’s panties in a twist.”

Perhaps it is due to Donghyuck’s persistence, but Mark closes his eyes and envisions Jeno in his company for a dinner, much like this one, except with more company.

He doesn’t get very far.

Technically, Donghyuck is harmless. He conceals advice with jokes and leaves people to learn their lessons on their own. His impertinence is reserved only for unfortunate victims like Mark. Introducing them to each other isn’t the worst idea ever — if Jeno is meant to stay in his life, he will hear of Donghyuck’s existence anyway.

However, the thought of Donghyuck sinking his claws into sweet, sweet Jeno’s intact soul leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Opening his eyes, Mark raises his voice and repeats, “I’m not going to let you meet him.”

“I can tell you if he likes you back,” Donghyuck offers, eyes glimmering with deviousness.

“And why do I need to know that?”

“Because you’re interested in him.”

Mark opens his mouth to fight back, only for no sound to leave it when he realizes that he is just repeating himself again and again. When Donghyuck’s lips contort into a wicked smile, Mark’s fate is sealed. He has lost this squabble. 

Even then, the sight of a victorious Donghyuck — eyes curled up, cheeks full from mischief — brings a smile to his face, and Mark knows that he isn’t as angry as he really should be.

Peace is an illusion, Mark should know. 

Mark breaks the question at the end of another filming day, when the risk of sputtering out anything illogical is lesser in the event that he needs to escape after Jeno declines the request.

“I have a friend who wants to meet you,” Mark begins, hands stuck in his pockets. They are due for another break, and this time, Jeno wants to step out of the studio for once.

Jeno’s shoulder bumps into his as he makes his way out of the set as well. “Who is he?”

“Lee Donghyuck, Jung Jaehyun’s makeup artist.”

Jeno whistles, impressed by Donghyuck’s portfolio. “Why does he want to meet me?” Then, his eyebrows rise as he tilts himself forward and into Mark’s space, teasing. “Did you tell him anything about me?”

“I didn’t,” Mark quickly sputters, leaning away to put some distance between Jeno and him. It is as truthful as it is false; he didn’t disclose anything that is capable of diminishing Jeno’s reputation, but Donghyuck’s perception of Jeno is now coloured by Mark’s lenses too. It is no longer his alone, and now all Mark can do is joke, “He’s a social butterfly of sorts. He thinks you’re an interesting person, but he doesn’t know the truth.”

Betrayal floods Jeno’s features in an instant. “Hey!” 

As soon as the surprise fades, amusement takes over Jeno’s semblance instead. Mark’s lips unknowingly follow along, and before he knows, they are both standing on a hill, smiling widely at each other. 

He must paint the greatest picture of foolishness, of a young boy who does not know what to do with themselves, but Jeno looks stunning. 

It blinds Mark in the best way. 

“I’m not opposed to it, but can I bring someone along?”

Jeno’s question doesn’t strike him as odd — meeting someone new always has more risks than it does benefits. Mark doesn’t know Jeno to be the most sociable person, and him wishing to bring someone along — be it for reassurance or protection — still bodes well for Mark because it indicates interest in wanting to mingle with Mark’s friends as well. 

“Sure,” Mark agress. The wind that blows against his face is strong and unceasing. His hair will most definitely require some touching up and he is at danger of being nagged by his stylist. Somehow, with Jeno beside him, it turns into a good thing. “Who?”

“Jaemin,” Jeno says. A pretty face flashes in his mind, one that he has been seeing a lot lately. “Na Jaemin.”

  
  
  


The day arrives too soon. 

Most of Mark's days are spent at the filming set now, where sunrise and sunset often blur into one entity. Working with a director who is a perfectionist makes time an illusion. It is fortunate that Mark understands his desire to ensure each cut meets his own expectations before they move on — it makes going over the same lines again and again less of a chore and more of a privilege, allows him to improve until he is satisfied with his performance too. 

In ways unknown to him, having Renjun accompany him eases some of his nerves. 

Despite the amount of people he sees and works with, Mark doesn't have a lot of friends. The nature of his job forces him to approach everyone with his guard up, regardless of any information he might possess about the person prior to interacting with them. Since wearing his heart on his sleeve is something that is natural to him, socializing becomes draining, and his friendship circle becomes a sacrifice.

Donghyuck is an outlier who barged into Mark's life three years ago after Jeno's exit. Being employed keeps them from meeting up as often as they want to, but Mark is grateful that Donghyuck never slips away from his grasp even if they go months without catching up in person. 

Renjun is no wizard, however; he is unable to erase all of Mark's worries for him, not if they multiply without his permission and trample all over any efforts he makes to hold them back. 

Leaning in, Renjun grazes his hand along Mark's arm to get his attention. "Why are you so scared?"

"He's coming with Jaemin," is Mark's answer. Bare, devoid of any tact. If he wants Renjun's reassurance, then he needs to face the facts and speak out his own truth.

Renjun flattens his lips into a thin line. "Jaemin is not a foe, Mark." Even if Renjun's words disagree with what Mark feels, his tone is not chiding. He speaks with care, and with his voice, his advice reaches Mark's ears like a pat to the head every time. "Not until you know what his relationship is with Jeno, anyway."

"Even if I do," Mark immediately bites back. These aren't thoughts that haven't occurred to him. They have never been validated though, and Mark isn't going to waste the opportunity now that it is Renjun who has initiated the exchange with him. "His relationship with Jeno shouldn't be a deciding factor in how I treat Jeno. Or how I act with Jeno, for that matter."

"It shouldn't, but we both know how you feel about Jeno." Mark sucks in a breath. He knows that Renjun doesn't approve of them, even if Renjun hasn’t explicitly stated so. 

As a grown adult, Mark doesn’t require anyone’s approval to fall in love. But Renjun is important — both as a manager and as his friend. In consequence, it adds an unwanted weight to his words, even if they are harmless or well-intended. 

"Those feelings," Renjun whispers, finger lightly jabbing into the left side of his chest. Beneath it, Mark's heart beats wildly, at the thought of someone else hearing, at the prospect of Jeno discovering all of his hidden intentions. "No matter what you think of them, they are valid too. Regardless of your relationship with Jeno. You are experiencing those emotions because you are someone who has feelings for him."

To some extent, Renjun is right. Mark's brain isn't trying to make an enemy out of Jaemin for nothing. 

Perhaps that explains the dispute that exists within him: Jaemin is objectively good looking. Even though Mark hasn’t exactly interacted with him, he appears kind too, if the stories he hears are anything to go by. 

There are reasons to worry, whether it's because his subconscious perceives Jaemin as a threat, or it's because he is an unknown variable that has entered Jeno's life after his exit. Mark's knowledge of Jaemin doesn't extend beyond his observations from weeks ago. And since then, Renjun has tried to nullify every one of Mark's various endeavours to get information or opinions out of him. 

What he has concluded, is that Jeno is capable of distinguishing good from bad. If he, as someone who interacts with Jaemin on a regular basis, deems it safe to keep him around, then Mark should not cause any trouble by contesting with Jeno as an outsider looking in.

Dispirited, Mark sighs. "It's just," he begins, scrabbling for words to supplement what he is about to say. "Jaemin is, well." Mark punctuates his remark with vague waves of his hands, not knowing how to put it into words. What can he even use? Lovely? Beautiful? _Exquisite_? 

"I know," Renjun agrees, lips twisting into a mischievous smile. Mark's eyes round in surprise. It isn't often that Renjun indulges him when it comes to gossip, not even if Mark tempts him with the most elusive questions. As peculiar as it is, hearing Renjun express interest in someone puts him in a new light, even if it reinforces his own insecurities. 

Unfortunately, Renjun seems to understand what he wants to say. 

Rolling his eyes, Renjun defends, "Why are you looking at me like that? I have eyes too."

The restaurant Donghyuck chose is fairly secluded. Mark doesn't know if he chose it for the privacy it offers, but Mark can barely remember if anyone has entered after Renjun and he have taken their seats. That is the reason he turns to look when the bell hung on the door handle rings. 

His brain registers Donghyuck first, a familiar tuft of brown hair along with the high pitched whine that emerges every time he's being teased or trying to prove his point. Then, it sinks in that Donghyuck didn’t show up alone. 

Jeno is smiling at what he's saying, eyes crinkled up in delight. Next to him, Jaemin chuckles, not nearly as amused as Jeno seems to be. Even if he hasn't contributed a single word, Mark can perceive that he's included in the conversation too. 

Renjun moves away, immediately breaking the illusion of secrecy that existed when two people whisper in such close proximity. His source of comfort detaching from him shocks him back into the present. Renjun pulls at his own shirt in an attempt to straighten out any creases.

With a pointed look, he says, "Think about it. Don't torture yourself too much, alright?"

Mark forgets how much fun Donghyuck can be when he's in his own element.

It is devastating how quickly Jeno and Jaemin warm up to him without the help of alcohol at all. To his right, Renjun sits, nursing his share of wine, presiding over the whole ordeal and supplying answers to questions that are directed at him. Even though Mark had requested for a glass of wine for himself, it remains neglected until the end of the dinner. Being lucid enough to discern between left and right remains a priority for Mark, who appreciates the sight of people he adores congregating in an enclosed space.

For what it's worth, the dinner proceeds without much trouble. Donghyuck is eager to get to know the two strangers sitting opposite him, and neither Jeno nor Jaemin have the heart to turn down any questions Donghyuck throws at them, personal or not. By now, most of their plates are cleaned of all the food. Donghyuck appears tipsy enough to begin leaking his secrets, though Mark doubts that he actually will — not if he's so preoccupied with trying to impress his new friends. 

Leaning back, Jeno nudges at Mark's shoulder. "Your friends are fun."

"So is yours."

"Right." If the term used is false, Jeno doesn't correct him. Instead, he slants his body towards Mark's, a small action that expands in significance and magnitude because it is Mark who is perceiving it. Reaching out, he grabs Mark's hand with both of his, enveloping them in his warmth. "Thank you for inviting me."

Mark shakes his head, dismissing Jeno's politeness with a wave of his hands. "Trust me, it wasn't my decision to make. Donghyuck was going to use some very mean words on me if I didn't agree to at least ask you." Jeno's eyes glint with amusement, although he doesn't stand up for Donghyuck's character. "But thank you for coming too — especially since you weren't obligated to."

" _The_ Mark Lee asked for something for once. How can I refuse?" Jeno teases, eyes twinkling. Then, Jeno fixes his gaze on Mark, expression unreadable. "I just wished it was the two of us instead."

Mark understands where Jeno is coming from. Three years have lapsed between them. Ever since their reunion, they have only been creating new memories, be it at the filming set, through text, or in their own private moments. There are stories to be told, even the most redundant ones, but they haven't had the opportunity to fill each other in on what went on. 

Many dark moments exist within those three years for Mark. Somehow, he had always assumed that the same went for Jeno, that that is what makes him reluctant to share or steer their chats in that direction.

"We can always ditch them and just go."

"You mean right now?" Mark nods. Jeno assesses their current circumstance before dedicating Mark with a dejected expression. "We're sitting in the middle of all of them."

Mark imitates Jeno and evaluates their positions. Stomping down on his pride, Mark swallows and rebuts, "Not a problem for me, I think."

"You're funny," Jeno comments. Pulling Mark's fingers apart from each other, Jeno opens up his hand only to trace his finger along the lines that are etched into his palm. His touch is tender, pensive. Mark feels inebriated from the want that courses through him alone, and doesn't resist it when his heart tells him to capture Jeno's fingers playfully this time. "Jaemin doesn't have a ride home. I need to send him back after this, which is why I haven't picked a single drink on this table."

And just like that, every conflicting thought that was tucked away for the last two hours returns to confront him again.

  
  
  


Being professional, no matter the circumstance, has always been one of Mark’s merits.

Doing multiple takes for one scene is normal. Sometimes the shot doesn’t emerge the way the director envisioned, and they would like to make changes to the camera angle, the blocking of the actors, the lighting of the setting. Sometimes a stray animal flies into the background and shatters the atmosphere of the scene. Sometimes his voice cracks.

This, however, is none of that.

“Let’s try again,” Doyoung bellows. Mark feels his confidence ebbing away with every second he spends under everyone’s scrutiny. He isn’t like this. “Mark, try not to forget your lines this time.”

Mark nods, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Even though his vision doesn’t allow him to perceive most of the camera crew clearly, Mark can swear that they are all one second away from lashing out at him, just like Doyoung probably is.

They go for another take. Mark closes his eyes and exhales loudly. The figure opposite him is not Jeno. It is his character’s love interest, a mirage created for the sake of telling a story. The figure opposite him is not the ghost of his past, and should not be bearing the consequences of his incapacity to separate them as such.

Tension trickles out of him in slow, excruciating drops. Bravery takes its place and propels him forward for the first ten lines. All it takes is one blink for his mind to go blank and for everything to fall apart: his pride, his stability, and perhaps his career too.

Opposite him, Jeno’s disposition doesn’t change, but Mark can make out the dim in his eyes when he notices that he doesn’t actually know what to say next. 

“Cut!” Doyoung shouts, throwing Mark a life line even if the tone of his words indicate that he would rather let Mark drown in the sea. This time, he doesn’t spare Mark a glance. Mark decides against apologizing, fears that it will only exacerbate everyone’s anger. “Let’s take a break.”

Mark’s head droops, his chin centimeters from kissing his chest. They have just started for the day, which means that he doesn’t have the excuse of being overworked to fall upon for his mistakes. 

To his shock, cold fingers reach out for his hand. He doesn’t need to look up to know who it is; there aren’t many people who would hold his hand like this, with reverence, with care. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Jeno mumbles, considerate in his plan to salvage what is left of Mark’s dignity. Against his will, Mark closes his own hand around Jeno’s and lets the invisible string tug him along. He trails after Jeno on the journey to nowhere, to a destination only Jeno knows. “Maybe a change of scenery will help.”

They eventually arrive at Jeno’s waiting room. It is not as much of a scenery change like Jeno promised — they are enclosed within the same four walls, and now that no one else is around, Mark only feels more trapped.

Using Mark’s hand as leverage, Jeno tugs Mark down into the seat across from his. Jeno decreases the distance between their bodies by learning forward, an attempt at making him look more sympathetic to the cause behind Mark’s unforeseen hopelessness at doing his own job. 

Mark isn’t a fortune teller, but there is only one question to be asked in situations like this. Jeno doesn’t surprise him as he softly inquires, “Are you okay?”

Without looking up, Mark replies, “I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not fine,” Jeno bites back. “Have you memorized your lines yet? We can go through them now if you’d like.”

“I’m fine,” Mark repeats, not bothering to conceal the ire in his tone. Jeno’s insistence acts like kerosene to his fire, holds him hostage to keep burning and be remiss of the damage. “I don’t need help in anything.”

Jeno’s eyes bear holes into Mark’s face as he searches for an explanation Mark is unwilling to offer. “Did something happen?” At Mark’s silence, Jeno inches closer, exposing the fact that he possesses a lot more doubts that he wants to clarify. Agony takes over Mark’s semblance, and is tempted to break out into tears if it means Jeno will leave him alone. ”Tell me, Mark. Is it because of me?”

Jeno’s question startles Mark at first. There exists a multitude of reasons that can be the culprit behind Mark’s slip ups today. Instead of focusing on any external factors that are capable of stressing Mark to this degree, Jeno focuses on the potential that paints him as the one responsible.

However, Mark catches a glimpse of a silver lining in the quiver of Jeno’s voice; he is uncertain, too. Mark had perceived wrongly — Jeno’s intention was not to lead Mark into a territory governed by him, allowing him control over the conversation. What Jeno meant to do was to conduct an experiment, one that is crafted based on the hints Mark unknowingly dropped. The question is what it is: a hypothesis, his chance at validation.

It angers Mark, to be so easily read, to be so affected that he let so many people witness his moment of weakness. But even that is secondary to his revelation: he still has the opportunity to flee from here without giving Jeno the satisfaction of knowing the exact reason.

Reaching this point brings him to the calmest part of his crisis. He no longer wishes to interrogate Jeno or accuse him of things he has not done. Acceptance turns his resentment into power, and that is his only tool now that he is backed into a corner with nowhere to hide.

Shaking his head, Mark purses his lips into a thin line and answers, “Nothing happened. I think I’m good now.”

“Try and act like you want to be there at least, please,” is the first thing Renjun chooses to advise.

There’s another staff dinner that is meant to take place tonight. 

This one is special, however, because it is the last one. Renjun is not going to be present either, something about wanting to stay at home instead. It is an excuse, Mark knows, one that he can’t fault Renjun for.

Anyhow, Mark is instructed to phone Renjun when he wants to leave. The truth is, Mark wouldn’t mind if Renjun turned the car around and drove back to their dorm right now. What Renjun is hinting at though, is that alcohol isn’t exactly out of bounds for Mark tonight. 

Not wanting to expose himself, Mark lets Renjun’s words simmer in him for a few moments. In the end, he remains unable to come up with anything that doesn’t sound like a complaint when he moans, “Why can’t you just come with me? It’s not like you haven’t dined with any of them before anyway.”

“I don’t have to be there, Mark. You know it.” Renjun sends him a pointed look. His words aren’t enough of a blow yet, it seems, because he continues, “Plus, I see you every single day of the year. I think I’m allowed to want a break from you sometimes.”

With a pout, Mark decides, “You’re so mean to me.”

“I’m being serious,” Renjun suddenly says, reaching out to rest a hand on Mark’s thigh. His attention remains on the road, and when Mark looks outside, it dawns upon him that they are only five minutes away from reaching his destination. “Jeno doesn’t hate you, whether you believe it or not.”

Renjun sounds so sure that Mark can’t defy his need to question, “Did he tell you that?”

“No,” is Renjun’s answer. Mark deflates visibly, although he doesn’t know why he would want Jeno to speak to Renjun about that; there are things that they keep hidden from each other, even if it might be detrimental for Renjun to not know as his manager. “We remained friends even after things ended between you and him, but I don’t talk to him about you. I don’t think you’d want me to.” 

With Renjun’s answer, Mark finally has the last puzzle piece that connects all the dots regarding what he witnessed at the first staff dinner. A part of him feels irrational for even thinking that Renjun would betray him, but he suppresses it in favour of confirming that his thoughts aren’t unreasonable.

”I walked out on him, Renjun. I know I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t want him to hear how I was insecure over Jaemin when I don’t even have the right to be.”

“Have you ever spoken to him about that?”

“Why would I?”

Renjun’s shoulders droop as he sighs. He removes his hand, seemingly having deemed Mark as a lost cause. “You’ve been so preoccupied with your own side of the situation that you can’t see what his is like.” 

His words trigger another cascade of emotions in Mark, who stands still and lets Renjun’s words rain down on him once again. He is not wrong, that much Mark can acknowledge. There is something else that prevents Mark from letting Jeno say his piece though, that Renjun is not including in his perception of the current events. 

“If he tried to speak to you, it means that he has something to say, you know? Maybe you should listen to him.” 

But Mark isn’t willing to go so easily. “What if I don’t want to hear what he has to say to me?”

“Because you’re scared it’s not going to be in your favour?” Renjun says at last, destroying Mark’s beliefs that Renjun isn’t aware of what Mark is seeing. “You won’t know what he has to say until you stop running from him. What if it’s the opposite?”

“And what are the odds?” Mark voices out, always looking for a mirror to reflect his fears.

Pulling up in front of the restaurant, Renjun gestures to the door of his car. “You’ll discover, I’m sure.”

Mark doesn’t find Jeno immediately after he enters, nor does he intend to.

They parted ways at the filming set hours ago, where everyone took too many pictures for memory’s sake. The exchange between them was simple to anyone who was looking: a handshake and a polite bow to thank each other for their hard work. Mark let his hand linger when Jeno let go, although he was faced with Jeno’s back as soon as their fingers loosened in each other’s grasp.

It is what makes tonight special for Mark. On paper, it is the end of yet another project, this time in a genre of film that he isn’t familiar with. There were many things that he did on his own just to ensure that he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of everyone: watch copious amounts of romance films in the name of research, force Renjun into playing the antagonist for the sake of practicing, pluck at the stray fabric of his jeans during every pep talk he gives himself. 

In reality, tonight is Mark’s last chance, last shot at mending things with Jeno. After tonight, Mark will no longer have a valid reason to seek Jeno out. This permits Jeno to act as if Mark never came back into his life, and it will be Mark’s fault for leaving them on ambiguous territory this time.

He gives himself half an hour to assimilate into the crowd. It helps that Jeno doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight, although Mark doesn’t know if he can take the disappointment of Jeno leaving him for a second time.

His abstinence lasts him for longer than he predicted, and he isn’t the one who spots Jeno first either.

Jeno was already looking at him when Mark looked over. Mark doesn’t want to delude himself, but the way Jeno had situated himself in one of the more quiet parts of the restaurant reminds him of Renjun’s words earlier. If Jeno wants to have a conversation, then Mark will give him one.

Excusing himself from the conversation is easy. No one thinks that there is anything peculiar about Mark wanting to speak to his co-star, especially not when they have spent the better part of the last eight months romancing each other with everyone present. To them, it must be a sign of a budding friendship between two actors. Mark thinks they can’t get any more wrong.

Making his way to Jeno is a challenge in itself. His legs quiver as they push him forth one step at a time, but the crowd of people present serve as a bigger obstacle. 

When he finally stands before Jeno, with Jeno looking at him like he’s seeing him for the first time, Mark finds that he doesn’t actually know what to say. He doesn’t realize how badly he wants to perfect this until now — perhaps he should have prepared a script for this.

Without preamble, Jeno beats him at his own game and says, “I’m not dating Jaemin.” 

Nervousness knocks on his door in the next second. He was already prepared to have his heart in his throat when he approached Jeno, but hearing Jeno spit things out so bluntly still can’t compare to anything he rehearsed to steel himself. 

“Should we be having this conversation here?” Mark asks instead.

Jeno is relentless when he replies, “I think now is a time as good as any.”

“Fine,” Mark breathes out.

“You still like me,” Jeno states, expression twisted into something Mark can’t decipher. He may as well have doused a bucket of ice over Mark’s being. His gaze doesn’t vacillate when Mark meets it. although Mark can’t say the same for himself. Without giving him context, Jeno’s words bares too much of his soul for him to react in any way — everything he has to offer will only affirm them. “It’s been three years.”

Unable to perceive Jeno’s aim, Mark ventures, “Is it bad? That I wish for another chance between us?”

Perhaps Mark should worry about how Jeno has already decoded most of him, but Jeno voicing out Mark's feelings for him isn't a bad thing. Not in Mark's books at least. If Jeno wasn't the brave one between them, Mark might need a thousand more years to ever measure up.

“No, it’s not,” Jeno answers, reassuring the largest part of Mark that yearns for validation, but only from the right person. Now that he is sure Jeno isn’t going to shun him for his feelings, it is time for a more urgent question to be asked. Judging by the doubt plain on Jeno’s face, it is one that Mark can already predict because he has obsessed over the same one time and time again too. “But _why_?”

To Mark, the solution is simple. “We never did break up.” The memory of unlocking his phone to absolute silence in between filming sessions draws a bitter laugh from him, although he isn’t despicable enough to absolve his own share of responsibility in this as well. 

The veracity of the story is that they were both too busy for each other. Jeno is a child star who has been busy from young, but Mark was only beginning to make it big then. _Momentum is important_ , was what they said. But momentum cost him Jeno, his youth and his heart. 

Now that Mark has regained some semblance of control in his life **_—_ ** a stable career, a manager he can trust with his life **_—_ ** it is no wonder that he chooses to recover the things that matter the most. 

Mark’s eyes roam over Jeno’s face, finding fear written into the slant of his brows. He straightens himself and does his best to paint a picture of confidence, willing Jeno to gleam it from him so they can finally rewrite their history. “And I lost my best friend too, back then. I want him back.”

“I’m not the same person I was back then,” Jeno says, shifting his weight from one leg to another. He doesn’t know that it is in Mark’s favour. 

Mark would be lying if he said that Jeno’s method of departure didn’t leave a scar on his heart. He hated the lack of closure, despised the fact that the shift in the state of their relationship was invisible and not something that can be healed easily. If Jeno is implying that he will no longer react to conflict with silence, then it should be a green flag for Mark, a sign that he can trust Jeno now more than before.

“I’m not either. But I think I’m willing to try to try again.”

“You think?” Jeno presses, forcing Mark to unravel every part of him. 

And Mark would gladly do it, it means that his story ends with Jeno in his arms. 

He shrugs, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I can’t do this without you.”

Jeno chooses to respond with his hands.

Maybe he is disillusioned, because Jeno looks beautiful when he wordlessly seeks for Mark’s hand to hold, even if he leaves Mark breathless until he gets an end to his silence. Now that Jeno understands his purpose, Mark lets his chest sink a little as relief washes over him.

It is an assessment; Jeno is withholding his reaction, leaving it to Mark to interpret the meaning of his actions. 

Jeno wants to know if Mark is capable of decoding him all the same, even with all the years in between them, but Mark has only one thought: “Can I kiss you?”

Jeno hums. “It depends.” Contrary to his words, he leans in and leaves a hair’s breadth between their noses. Jeno is so cruel; he now knows that he has the upper hand between them, and he doesn’t hesitate to tempt Mark with the sweetest lure. But maybe it’s on Mark, for being so impatient he ends up tripping over himself just for the simplest bait. “How badly do you want to?”

Mark’s eyes dart down to focus on the one thing that he can’t have and feels every nerve of him respond when Jeno slants his chin up, so subtle that Mark wouldn’t have known if he wasn’t looking. A prompt, a test. 

“Very badly,” Mark hears himself mutter.

Without a fear of shattering Mark’s heart, Jeno rights himself and leans his body against the wall behind him. A grin overcomes Jeno’s features, although the more pronounced curve of his eyes and lips add a hint of evil to his usually cheerful disposition. 

After getting a taste of what it’s like to be this close to Jeno once more, the distance that exists between them now devastates him. But even when Mark is greedy, he finds it hard to not mirror Jeno’s happiness. This is unbidden, directed towards him only. This is what Mark has let slip.

Mark wasn’t aware that there was a right or wrong answer to Jeno’s question **_—_ ** for him, there was only one option, and that involves getting Jeno’s tongue tangled with his own, everyone else be damned. Jeno, however, seems to have other intentions.

“I think you should take me out on a date first,” Jeno jests. His tone contradicts his body language; he doesn’t move another inch, not even when Mark tugs at his hand, not caring that his desire is too obvious. Although he hasn’t given Mark a reason to doubt that he has changed his mind ever since he took Mark’s hand into his, Mark still finds it hard to believe that Jeno is here with him. That they are on the same page, and that Mark isn’t the only one who has something to lose anymore.

His thumb smooths over the skin that stretches on the back of Mark’s hand, and Mark prays that Jeno doesn’t mind the goosebumps that rise in its wake. “Maybe if you’re charming enough, I’ll let you in my house at the end of the night.”

If Jeno doesn’t think that Mark will move the seas, grab some stars, and tilt the earth just for the brush of Jeno’s lips against his, then he is wrong, terribly so. 

From now on, it is up to Mark to prove it.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
